


'the shackles of this multitude of hearts.'

by sighingfawn



Series: “There is, in the end, the letting go.” [6]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Graphic ED mention, Graphic Eating disorder description, Illness, M/M, Mental Illness, does anyone even write joel/ray anymore?, eating disorder mention, i know he's left but, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 14:56:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sighingfawn/pseuds/sighingfawn
Summary: 'It’s the middle of November when Ray relapses, quick and quiet.'





	'the shackles of this multitude of hearts.'

**Author's Note:**

> this is so so so so triggering.   
> its not a happy story and im so sorry but im not having the best time rn.
> 
> i totally fell out of watching RT/AH so like idk if anyone even writes about these two any more but i have other stories relating to them and wanted to write something.  
> thanks for reading!!

It’s the middle of November when Ray relapses, quick and quiet, as everybody gets buried under projects, and thick hoodies. He’s eating a bowl of leftovers, thick cheesy pasta, alone for the third night due to Joel’s work commitments when the idea hits him mid swallow.   
_I could throw this away. I could throw this up._  
He sets down his fork and hacks up the pasta lodged in his throat into the bowl. Without thinking he tips the remaining pasta down the garbage disposal and downs a glass of water before pacing to the bathroom, panic starting to build at the thought of digesting calories. It all fades away as he sinks to his knees and his fingers find their way to his mouth. He spits and gags and it burns.   
Ray sits on the floor of the bathroom after he finishes and breathes deep to try and calm his racing heart. His fingers are disgustingly sticky and his throat still burns but he feels better. As he washes his hands Ray berates himself for not doing this sooner, for not noticing quicker that nobody was watching.  
Later, when Joel comes home and asks what he had for dinner and if he saved him any, Ray realises he should have been worried about Joel catching him. He drinks another glass of water, slowly this time, and wonders if next time his throat won’t burn as much.   
Next time.  
  


The office is drowning in seemingly never-ending projects that hit problems daily, dragging on what should have been a day of filming into four, plus editing time and Ray uses the stress as a distraction as he slips further. It keeps him bounding around the office, reenergising everyone through filming or a discussion for the next video. The energy he has is manic and fuelled by red bull but hey, drinking red bull is much more time effective than food and who cares if it’s been a day since I last eat anything, the video will be finished on time.   
Michael is the first to notice.   
“You’ve been drinking them a lot.” Ray lowers the can, senses danger straight away even though Michael’s headphones are still on and he hasn’t looked away from his monitor.   
“Yeah. We have a lot of work to do, haven’t you noticed?” Ray wants to sound sarcastic and biting but it comes out jittery, matching his trembling hands.   
“Ray.”   
“It’s just until we catch up.” He adds as an afterthought, “I don’t even like the taste anymore.” It’s a stupid joke and Michael finally glares at him.   
There’s more care in Michael’s words than anger but the threat is prominent, scary. “If you keep replacing your meals with energy drinks I’ll tell whoever will make you stop.”   
Meaning he’ll tell Joel and Joel will tell his care team who have already noted the increasing distance Ray is creating.   
“Okay.” Ray stands up and catches Michael’s attention again, flashing a practiced smile. “I’ll go get something now.”    
He makes noodles in the kitchen and tips half away while its empty, then starts talking at length to whoever comes in while they sit growing cold on the counter. He brings them back to the office and pointedly mentions to Gavin about how he hates eating at his desk, how the smell clings to everything.   
Ray sets them down on the side of his desk that is closer to Michael and meticulously swings in his chair a minute later, a question already half way out of his mouth when he knocks the contents of his bowl onto the floor.   
From Michael’s reaction, he believes Ray’s fake apologies.    
  
He wakes up with vines and thick nettles crawling up his legs that wrap themselves in knots, leaving him gasping for breath. Ray reaches over blindly for Joel and his hand slams down on the empty space as the realisation crashes over him that Joel is away. He tries to sit up but the cramps keep his legs pinned to the mattress while his stomach swirls and clenches. Ray curls his fingers into his thighs and presses hard, trying to create a separate pain but he knows nothing will work, he needs Joel.   
Sunlight slips through the closed curtains as the vines begin to retreat.  
Ray’s legs tremble as he pushes them out of the duvet and onto the floor, his head spinning sickeningly with each movement. He looks at the empty space where Joel should be and forces himself to stand, imagining this happening while Joel was home and how much trouble he would be in.  
Ray feels his legs try to melt as he sways. “Be strong.”   
He wants to sit back down on the bed, to crawl into the sheets and rot or hibernate until Joel comes back. Instead, Ray counts to fifty and then stumbles towards the bathroom, his heart pitching against his ribcage with each step.  He guzzles an oceans worth of water from the cold bathroom tap before his head stops pounding, dulling down to buzzing ache. It makes him feel more nauseated but the pretend feeling of fullness allows him to get dressed and make it into the kitchen. He chokes down a fingertip of peanut butter he finds in the fridge, telling himself it’s just protein and fuel for work, it’s okay. He gets his uber driver to drop him off three blocks from the building even though his legs are alternating between being filled with lead and air.   
“You look like shit.” Ray wonders if Barbara was waiting for him to arrive, if Joel asked everybody to check up on him while he was away.   
“I know.” Ray shrugs his shoulders and decides his easy smile won’t work on her. “I miss Joel.”  
Her face softens and Ray knows she won’t ask the questions that would have Joel flying home days early. “It must be hard.”  
There’s a hissing in Ray’s ears as he nods, the words falling sad and heavy between them. “He’s just gone so much these days.” Ray watches her face, the turned down corners of her mouth and curls in on himself, aware that if he keeps speaking she’s going to hug him and discover that she can count the notches of his spine.   
“It’s been so busy recently-“   
“I know. We just need to get through these next few weeks and we’ll all be fine.” Ray forces himself to laugh. “If I had to travel I wouldn’t be complaining. I just hate getting left here while he gets to go, I know its for work but…” He shrugs his shoulders again and Barbara smiles, like she understands.   
“Let me know if you need anything Ray.”  
Ray squeezes his arm before she can move to touch him first.   


The stairs to his apartment have doubled since Ray left this morning and his vision blurs as his heart clenches and flops, an injured animal in the mud. He stumbles and his knees smash against the last carpeted step. His head pounds as he tries to stand up, the floor veering away and then flying towards his face as he forces himself to his apartment. Ray calls out for Joel automatically as the door swings open, Ray needs him to make him food, needs permission to eat. He shivers despite the artificial heat in their apartment and the sweat beading in his collarbones. His chest feels like its caving in as he sinks to the floor and tries to find his phone in his bag. He wants Joel, wants to hear his voice as though that might stop his clanging heart.   
It all feels different this time, Ray thinks.   
Ray looks at the coffee cup resting on the counter and wonders if he should have had some milk in it this morning, if instead of walking three blocks this morning he should have walked two. The voice in his head argues while Ray rests his head against the cool floor tiles until the stars wake the moon.    
His heart winds up and launches itself stubbornly as Ray tries to sit up against the cupboards. His body ignores him, his hands useless and numb as he tries to push himself up. He wants to scream but he can’t catch his breath. Ray can feel his phone in his pocket, the taunting weight of Joel’s voice so close but so far makes him even more determined but his traitor hands and body refuse to listen.   
_I’m going to die here._   
The thought almost makes his wounded heart stop. He imagines somebody having to call Joel or worse, Joel coming home and finding him. Bile burns in his throat as he shoves himself against the cupboard, his body limp and aching as his shoulder blades crack against the handles. His hands find his phone and there’s a voice mail from Joel. Ray closes his eyes as he swipes on the notification and cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear.  
Joel’s voice is messy and alcohol sweet. “Hey Ray. I’m guessing you’re either asleep or showering. Or you’re too busy.” Joel laughs and Ray presses hard against the cupboard handles. “I just- I wanted to say I’m very drunk and I’m very proud of you. I’ll be home in a few days. I’ve missed you so much Ray. I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you this year.” Ray can hear the hidden meaning; Joel can’t wait to spend Christmas with Healthy Ray. “I love you.” There’s a pause and Ray can imagine Joel’s face as he tries to find the right words. “I’m just- I’m so proud of you.”   
Ray slides his phone across the kitchen floor and hauls himself up using the counter top. “Don’t be a baby.” He hammers twice on his chest, willing his heart to stop the strange puttering as he opens the fridge. “Don’t be weak.”   
His anxious hands throw the peanut butter jar into the bin and find a bottle of water.


End file.
